The Five Year Fight
by The Catastrophe Waitress
Summary: CWNT. Charlie’s thoughts on his imminent return to England and his relationship with one of the people he’s left behind. Slightly angsty. Sequel to follow … CharlieTonks.


**The Five-Year Fight**

**Pairing(s):** Charlie/Tonks **Rating:** PG **Warnings:** None **Words**: 889 **Status:** Complete

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.

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They'd fought, and it had been bad.

Things had been thrown, words had been said.

He'd said he didn't love her.

She'd said she'd never loved him.

He'd said he couldn't give a toss.

He'd lied.

And now here he was, in a spacious apartment in Romania, surrounded by books and CDs and woolly jumpers from his mum that he'd never wear but didn't have the heart to throw away. He didn't have to worry about money, a luxury he'd never had as a child. He was living the life he'd always dreamed about when he was a teenager and first discovered his love of dragons.

The only thing was, it didn't count. Not without _her_. Around his fourth year at Hogwarts, his dreams had changed ever so slightly. He was still living in a foreign country, he was still dealing with dragons on a daily basis, he was still financially stable, but there were subtle differences.

In his dreams, there was a pair of battered, lime-green converses by the doorway, next to his own size elevens.

There were thick, leather-bound books on defence against the dark arts and famous dark wizards, perhaps shielding a few slim, pink romance novels from the prying eyes of the outside world.

There would be her beloved anime DVDs stacked neurotically according to name and colour on the shelves, just daring him to take the piss out of her for it.

There would be a jar of crunchy peanut butter, battling for cupboard space with the smooth kind.

In his dreams, there would be somebody to come home to, somebody who would listen to him talk excitedly about the new dragons eggs that were going to crack any day now, who would try and cheer him up with outrageous hair and humorous anecdotes about what she had done that day.

Charlie sometimes found himself reaching for the phone, her number etched into his mind, before he drew him hand back, tucking it into his pocket if necessary. He didn't want to unleash those demons, not until he was sure he would be able to handle it.

He sighed, glancing over at the framed pictures that covered one of the walls in his living room. She'd wave over at him whilst he ate his breakfast, a smile fixed permanently to her face. Charlie deduced it was the masochistic side of him that kept them up on the wall. They'd been one of the first things he'd unpacked when he'd first moved in.

He didn't know whether she'd given up and moved on, or if she still had faith that they'd somehow go back to how it was.

Ginny had told him about the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher that had grown attached to her. Charlie had days when he'd get so angry at the fact that she was even considering having it off with a man twice her age, before waking up the next morning and thinking "well what was stopping her?"

Five years was a long time to fight with somebody you loved.

But then again – no matter how clichéd and melodramatic it sounded - sometimes a moment seemed like a lifetime to Charlie.

He'd see a girl in the street with some outrageous hairstyle or a shocking outfit and instantly think it was her. He'd hear a dirty laugh from a secluded corner of a bar and have it echo around his head for days, just because it reminded him of all those times they'd snuck out or snuck in, or the time they'd made a dramatic entrance or a hasty exit.

He couldn't go to concerts or stop in the street to listen to a busker play his guitar. Despite her incurable clumsiness that provided her with the amazing ability to trip over her feet even when she was sat down, Tonks played the guitar like one of those Muggle rock-stars she admired so much, despite the fact that they all looked like they needed a good wash and a haircut. That thought always put a bittersweet smile on his face. He had all of Tonks' witty retorts to that comment stashed away in his mind.

Bill had told him that he was getting married. Some French girl. Two weeks' time. Attendance was non-negotiable. Painful, imaginative death if the groom was left at the alter without his best man. No choice.

Dad had told him that mum was making noises about trying to get Charlie to stay in England for a few months. He said that she said that she missed him. He also said that she wasn't the only one.

Charlie missed them, too.

Fred had told him that the house was like a dirty magazine with all the girls wandering around in their underwear due to the many, many last-minute dress fittings.

George has told him that Tonks had a great bum.

Fred had told him that Tonks had a great chest.

Charlie had told them that he could've told them that himself.

He knew he had no choice in his imminent return to England.

He was going to go home and see his family. That would be nice.

He was going to have to see her again. That could be nice.

Charlie wasn't going to fight it. He of all people knew that everyone had to face their personal dragons.

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**If it feels unfinished, it's probably because it is. Sequel to follow, probably – hopefully - not as angsty. **

**On a different note, does anybody know of any websites for good Charlie/Tonks fan fiction? Livejournal communities will do, too. I'd be really grateful if any of you could point me in the direction of some, please.**


End file.
